


and what will you have left?

by arabesques



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabesques/pseuds/arabesques
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(it’s been two weeks and something in your chest aches when you think of him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	and what will you have left?

**Author's Note:**

> ok i have no idea what this is it just appeared out of nowhere. um. it's probably really disjointed and i'm awful at prose (this is why i stick to poetry) so i'm sorry in advance? idk thank my friends for making me have E/R breakdowns on practically a daily basis.

**ten.**

it’s so fleeting you would barely even remember saying it under any other circumstances, not any more than the million other angry words thrown his way – but for every single one of those million words, he’s bounced back, as obnoxious as ever, bright smiles and longing glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

and this time –

(the argument is so stupid, in retrospect, but haven’t they all been? he made some throwaway comment about socialism being impossible because of its failure in russia, less because he believed what he was saying, more because he knew, he fucking knew it would get a rise out of you. and it had turned into yelling and bossuet slipping out the door because he can’t stand when the two of you argue and sharp words that came too easily, bitterness on your tongue that twisted itself into ‘get out of my sight i never want to see you again’ and – ‘fine’ he said and _fine_ , you thought, _he’ll be back tomorrow_.)

– of all the fucking times he could have chosen to do what you tell him to –

**nine.**

he says he never wants to see you again, and your lips say _fine_ and your heart, your lungs, your arteries and veins and ribcage scream _no_ and you ignore them, turn and walk out the door and you resolutely do not cry. it’s not – it doesn’t occur to you immediately, no, the entire walk home you’re convinced you’re going to go back. it’s not until you’re in your room and your phone keeps lighting up but the last text from him is from two months ago when you didn’t show up to his protest and you wonder what would happen if you did what he said, for once.

_enjolras_ : the protest went well, if you were wondering. i’m disappointed you weren’t there.

**eight.**

the first day is the fourth of march and he doesn’t show up and you tell yourself he’s hungover at home and pretend you don’t see ‘ferre and jehan exchanging looks. it’s only when éponine and bahorel are having a very loud dispute over whether or not nick and jess will get together this season of new girl that jehan appears next to you and says _no one’s heard from him, enjolras_ , and _i’m sure he’s fine_ you reply – (and _fine_ , he’d said, _fine_ and he’d turned away from you, unnerving because normally he’s so loud about leaving, slamming doors, but there’s no way he actually meant it, he can’t have, he – )

**seven.**

there are two packs of sobranies, a bottle of jack daniels, and a wrinkled piece of paper with an address in your bag, and all the money you have in the pocket of your jeans. the lights on the metro are far too bright for this time of night and you can tell you’ve got a headache coming on, an insistent pounding between your eyes, and you can’t breathe as your train pulls out of the gare du nord.

( _i’m disappointed_ means that he cared, _i’m disappointed_ is better than indifferent, _i’m disappointed_ – and he never wants to see you again.)

**six.**

it’s the eighth of march, half past eleven and everyone’s packing up their stuff and heading home but jehan hangs back and he’s got this exhausted look on his face, sad and maybe a bit angry.

‘have you – ? ’ and of course, yes he has, _he’s ok_ , he tells you, _he’s gone away, he just needs to be alone_ , and all you can hear is _i never want to see you again_ and _fine_.

**five.**

it’s raining when you arrive at st. pancras, and you have fuck-all idea what to do now. it reminds you of being about eight years old, vowing to be silent forever when your mum didn’t give you what you wanted; breaking and giving in only a few hours later as your sister taunted you over the dinner table. maybe this is you breaking.

you sit on a cold plastic bench for six hours and read _i’m disappointed_ until your eyes blur.

**four.**

it’s ridiculous, really, that his absence is affecting you like this, that it’s affecting you at all, because you don’t even like him. it’s the opposite – it frightens you, sometimes, how easy it is to hate him, to hate his snide comments and refusal to believe and how he stands for everything you aren’t.

which doesn’t explain why you’re sat in the corner, running over some tiny joke madame hucheloup had made about how much her alcohol sales have gone down by, and ‘ferre is watching you and watching you and watching you. you pretend to be reading _on liberty_ , but ‘just call him, enjolras,’ he says.

‘he wants to be alone,’ you say, and you ignore the incredulity on his face.

(it’s been two weeks and something in your chest aches when you think of him.)

**three.**

there aren’t enough cigarettes in the world for this, for the smell of paint hanging around montparnasse’s flat, for the fact that he still hasn’t texted, for _i’m disappointed_.

**two.**

you look at his name and the ache in your chest grows and lessens at the same time.

you press call.

**one.**

he calls.

he’s bright and full of belief that you can’t even imagine having, and he inspires and terrifies and fights against everything. he’s disappointed, and he never wants to see you again, and you’re useless and cynical and burning out faster than your next smoke. this is definitely you breaking.

he calls.

(you answer.)


End file.
